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Parthak
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When the Hands Hurt
After so much desolation
They let hate contaminate their hopes
The brightness of a blade cuts the air
It pours fury and releases the inner revolt
Thirsty and empty knives dance
They bitterly laugh in the dark
When the hands hurt
They destroy the hypocritical decency
When the hands hurt
They unlock the germ of violence!
Mistreated in the immensity of abandonment
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They don't shrug their shoulders
Migrants: prisoners of famine
Writhe in their friends' bodies
Beaten by the illusion of a dream
They wait for the silvery rain
The sea is stained blood-red
When the hands hurt
They destroy the hypocritical decency
When the hands hurt
They unlock the germ of violence!
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